Stillness Broken
by Astralis
Summary: GS. They help each other through nightmares. Part two - Grissom: Fantastic Terrors Never Felt Before. COMPLETE
1. To Still the Beating of my Heart

STILLNESS BROKEN

Part One – Sara: To Still the Beating of my Heart

Disclaimer: I don't own them. If this comes a shock to you, you have some serious issues and I'd recommend watching multiple CSI episodes back to back. Either that or we start a support group.

The story title, "Stillness Broken", the title of this part, "To Still the Beating of my Heart" and the title of the next part, "Fantastic Terrors Never Felt Before" all come from Edgar Allen Poe's poem The Raven', because I'm useless at thinking up my own titles, so I borrow phrases from other people who are smarter than me.

Oh, this takes place a few months after 'The Most Perfect Sleep', for the sake of continuity and to make it sound as though I have some kind of pre-conceived plan for my fics. You don't need to have read that.

***

Grissom lay on his back, thanking all possible deities and idols for the fact that he'd had a ceiling fan installed in his bedroom several years ago. Las Vegas was in the grip of a record heat wave and trying to sleep at night was bad enough, let alone sleeping during the hottest part of the day. 

Sara came in from the bathroom and crawled under the sheet. Grissom allowed himself exactly two seconds to consider that sleeping in the day during a heat wave while curled up with another person probably wasn't the smartest thing in the world before enveloping her body with his. He noted that she wasn't protesting about it; the blissful smile on her face as she wrapped an arm around him suggested the opposite. "Sleep well," he whispered, letting his lips brush her hair.

The blissful smile turned into a slightly cheekier one as she replied, "I always do." 

***

It was the cry that woke him. It was a terrified, panicked cry, ripping through the quiet of their bedroom. Heart pounding, Grissom became aware of the fact that Sara was struggling desperately against him, her breath coming in ragged, frantic gasps. "Sara," he said, trying to make his voice as calm and soothing as possible. "Sara, sweetheart, you're having a nightmare. Sara, wake up." 

"No!" she cried. "No, don't, don't, _please_." She was still fighting. Reluctantly, Grissom let go of her and she rolled away from him, still visibly in the thick of her nightmare.

"Sara, come on, wake up, Sara, it's all right, you're safe, Sara, come on, honey, please, wake up." 

He'd known her to have nightmares before, but never ones as bad as this. He knew what had happened in her past, what she was probably reliving right now. He felt sick to his stomach suddenly. 

"Don't, please, please,_ please_, don't, I can't, no, please just leave me alone, no _don't_." She was talking incoherently, thrashing around. Grissom realised she was trying to free herself of the sheet that she'd become entangled in. He reached out for her again, trying to soothe her. She flinched away from his hand and dangerously close to the edge of the bed. "Wake up, sweetheart. Come on, Sara." He ignored the flailing hands and pulled her to him, holding her close. She was almost screaming, repeating the word no' over and over again. "Wake up. It's a nightmare, Sara, just a nightmare." Her eyes opened, a haunted look clear behind the tears as her cries died away.

"Oh god," she gasped. "Oh god. Griss..." He held her as tightly as he could as she clung to him, rubbing her back with one hand. She had buried her face against his chest and he could feel the sobs racking her body. Grissom felt utterly helpless, more so than he had ever done in his life. It was as though Sara had been reduced to a shadow of herself by this dream, by that thing that had happened to her. She didn't deserve this. No one did.

"Griss..."

"You're all right, honey. It was a nightmare. You're safe, Sara. You're always safe with me."

"I hate – this," she sobbed. "I hate – having to – remember what happened. I don't - " Her voice was overtaken by another bout of sobbing. 

"Shh. Shh. It's okay. Don't try to talk if you don't want to." He could feel the tension in her body disappearing slowly. She was covered in sweat, both from fear and from her frantic exertions in the heat. "It's over now, Sara."

"It's _not_ over – it's never over – I can't forget. I can't forget..."

"I know. I know. I'm sorry, honey. I wish I could make it go away." Grissom heard his voice crack and swallowed.

They lay like that for several minutes more, as Sara's terror faded away, leaving her limp and exhausted but still clinging to Grissom. "I'm going to get and get you some water," he whispered when her breathing had returned to normal. "I'll be as quick as I can. Will you be all right if I leave you for a few moments?"

She nodded, weakly. Grissom kissed her head and slid off the bed. Sara lay with her eyes closed, cheeks flushed pink and tear-stained. The self-confident, intelligent woman seemed to have disappeared.

In the bathroom, he turned on the lights, letting them flood the room. He stood still for a second or two, trying to gather his thoughts and concentration. He felt strangely nauseated, both by what Sara had just been through and by the feeling he couldn't shake of having witnessed her at her most vulnerable. He knew perfectly well he was the only person she'd let inside those barriers of steel she had up. He knew this because he was like her in that sense. 

Filling a glass with water, he grabbed a facecloth and soaked it in cold water. Sara hadn't moved, but she did open her eyes as Grissom sat down beside her and maneuvered her into a sitting position, holding her carefully against his chest. She sipped the water robotically, and let him wipe her face and neck with the cloth. This almost catatonic state scared Grissom as much as the nightmare itself had. "Sara... talk to me, honey," he whispered, nuzzling the top of her head. 

"I feel sick."

"I'm not surprised. Are you going to _be _sick?" he asked gently.

"No."

"Okay." The only sound in the room was the rhythmic whirling of the ceiling fan, bathing them in cool air. "What can I do to make you feel better?"

"Just keep holding me. Please. Please just keep holding me."

"I'll never let you go, if that's what you want. I love you, Sara."

"I know."

As he carefully inched their bodies back so he could lean against the headboard of the bed, Grissom wondered if Sara was in a fit state to work in four hours. How would the horrors of work tonight play havoc with the images which were probably still vividly superimposed on her brain? He knew that her work was her salvation, her own way of paying back the people who had hurt her. If and when she came out of this state, she would probably kill him if he tried to stop her going to work or tried to put her on something easy. He couldn't let their personal life come past of the doors of the lab. He knew that, and so did she. Sighing, he rubbed her arm gently. What had happened between them had certainly made life interesting in more ways than one, but he'd never regretted it. Not for a single second. 

Lost in his thoughts, Grissom returned rapidly to the present as Sara began to talk, obviously trying to hide the pain in her voice behind a facade of dullness. "You know, I always wonder what happened to those guys. If they ever think about what they did to me. It was a joke to them, they were drunk, they thought they'd try and loosen me up a bit. They probably never realised what they really did to me. And I keep thinking, I wonder if they did it to any other girls like me? If they thought they could get away with it because I was too ashamed to report them? If there are any other girls out there like me who got hurt because of me I can't... I don't..."

"_Because of you_? Don't blame yourself. Don't. You were scared, and - and – and lonely – you can't change the past, Sara."

"I wish I could," she whispered, then looked up at him. "Thank you. Thank you for just – for being here. I could hear your voice, you know, in my dream. I was holding on to that. It's the first time someone's ever – been there – when I've been like that. And... it helps."

"You're welcome." Grissom contemplated the big brown eyes. "Will you be all right to go back to sleep? We've still got a few hours."

"Yeah. I'll sleep like a light now. Always do."

They straightened the sheet out over them and lay down again, wrapped up in each other and each other's bodies. Sara murmured, "I love you," and soon the only sound in the room was that of the ceiling fan.

***

TBC... and now it's Grissom's turn...


	2. Fantastic Terrors Never Felt Before

STILLNESS BROKEN: Part Two - Fantastic Terrors Never Felt Before

Disclaimer: They aren't mine. Funny that.

Author's Note: All the titles in this story come from Edgar Allen Poe's poem 'the Raven'. Read it. It's good.

All constructive feedback much appreciated. 

***

Sara blinked a few times, trying to remain focused on the show she and Grissom were watching on the Discovery Channel. Unfortunately, she was tired and Grissom's lap made a rather good pillow, and within a few minutes that and the fact that he was gently stroking her hair had convinced her that she could just close her eyes for a few minutes. She'd wake up at the end of the show and then they could go to bed.

Smiling peacefully, she drifted off to sleep. 

***

She woke several hours later at the sound of Grissom frantically calling her name. They were still on the sofa in the living room and she forced herself to roll over and look up at him.

She may have been half-asleep, but as Las Vegas' self-proclaimed expert on nightmares, she recognised the haunted look in his eyes and the shallow, frightened breathing. Instantly alert, she sat up and gently stroked his cheek with one hand. He jumped, and slowly brought his eyes to focus on her. "Sara?"

"Hey, Griss, what's wrong?" In five months, she'd never known him to have a nightmare. Keeping them both awake because of the twisted terrors the mind could create had been her role until now. 

"Sara, you won't leave me, will you?" His voice was hesitant, worried. Scared. Sara caught her breath. What _had_ he been dreaming about?

She frowned. "Of course not." Pausing, she asked, "Bad dream?"

He nodded, an almost child-like expression on his face. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I have enough of them." Guiltily relishing the chance to be the strong one for a change, she wrapped her arms around him and rested her chin on the top of his head, feeling his warm weight against hers. "Want to talk about it?" Grissom was _not_ good at talking about things; he was even worse than she was, but she was going to give him every chance. She knew from personal experience that talking did more than anything else to chase the demons away.

He sighed. She held him tighter.

Finally, he began to speak. "It was just a silly dream."

"_Not_ silly."

"I dreamed that I woke up, in our bed – and you weren't there. I came out here to look for you, I searched the apartment, but I couldn't find you. So I went to the lab and all the others were there – Catherine, Nick, Warrick, everyone who should have been there _was_ there, except you. And then I was searching all over the place – all over town – and there were people everywhere, but none of them was you. And no matter how hard I looked, or where I looked, I couldn't find you, Sara. And I just felt so alone, in the middle of all those people. More alone than I've ever felt in my life before." He sighed again.

Sara kissed the top of his head. "It was just a dream, honey. A nightmare. I'm not going anywhere. I won't leave you. I promise."

"But you can't make any promises. Things could be different in a year. In five years. One day I'll be old."

"And I'll still love you." Why, she wondered, couldn't it be as simple for him as it was for her? She loved him. He loved her. The fifteen year age gap – it didn't matter. As far as Sara was concerned, it never would.

"But you don't know that. Not for sure. I could be hobbling round with a walking stick and hearing aids, and you'd still be relatively young. You wouldn't want to be burdened with an old man like me."

"You'll never be a burden to me. Never. I want to be with you. It's what I've wanted for almost ten years. Why should I give up on you in a few years? I _waited_ for you." She could understand his fears. They'd each been so alone before they'd found one another. What she found harder to understand was this insistence that she was just going to take off one day and leave him. 

Sara knew better than anyone how hard it was to think straight after a nightmare, how hard it was to reconcile the horrors of the dream with reality. It was only the conviction that that was his problem that allowed her to keep a check on her temper. In any other situation, she probably would have been furious at the things he was suggesting. "We'll always be together," she said, firmly.

"How can you promise the future, Sara?" His voice was small. "I don't understand how you can say you'll love me in five years or ten years when you don't know what's going to happen? You could change. I could change."

It was her turn to sigh. "I can promise..." she thought a little, then began again. "I can promise you that I love you now, and that I have loved you for years, and that I love having you in my life, and that I can't imagine not having you in my life. I especially can't imagine not wanting to have you in my life. If you're not prepared to accept promises for the future, then you'll have to make do with that."

"I love you, Sara," he whispered. "And I know you love me. But I can't convince myself that you'll always be there."

"How long have you been thinking like this?" The idea that he'd been having doubts all along scared her.

"It's always been in the back of my mind... I know, on an intellectual level, that you mean everything you say and that you would never leave me. But it's had to convince my heart."

They sat in silence, wrapped up in each other. Sara was trying desperately to think of a way to convince Grissom - and his heart - that she would be there forever. "Look. Do you want to get married? Would that help?"

Grissom lifted his head off her shoulder and stared at her. Despite the look of anxiety he was still wearing, a tiny smile crossed his face. "Sara Sidle. Are you proposing to me?"

Sara considered this. "Yes." The whole thing suddenly seemed a little absurd, but she'd said it, and what was more, she realised she'd meant it. She'd given up on getting married a long time ago, but it was the ultimate commitment. If it would convince him how much she cared, she'd do it, and her heart would be in it the whole way.

"Sara..." He was still staring at her. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am, I'd happily marry you any minute. But if you don't want to marry me, then that's okay, we'll just carry on like we have been." 

"I don't want you to marry me just because of this conversation," he said, slowly.

"It's not just because of this conversation. It's because of... us..." It was hard to put into words just what she was thinking and feeling.

"Do you want to get married?" 

"Well, yes, but I'll be just as happy if we don't." She was having trouble gauging his reaction to her proposal. Shock, yes. Grissom was a traditionalist; he would never have expected her to propose to him. But what else was he thinking? He wasn't good with emotional commitments. What had she been thinking? The idea of marriage was likely to paralyse the man. "Look, if you don't want to get married, that's fine with me. We can just forget I ever said it and go to bed."

"Of course I want to marry you. I just..." he was obviously floundering, trying to put something into words. "The sherriff... work..."

"Could we forget about the sherriff? Just while we sort this out? I know the sherriff probably wouldn't be thrilled, but he's not likely to fire us."

"But the working environnment... he could make things difficult. Transfer you onto another shift." 

"Are you avoiding the topic?" Sara asked suspiciously.

"Uh, yes." 

"So if there was no sherriff, you'd marry me?" That was what she thought he'd said.

"Yes."

"You want to marry me, or you would marry me just to make me happy?" she asked for clarification, still quite unable to believe that they were having this conversation.

"Both. I want to marry you. I love you and I care about you more than I've ever cared about anyone in my life. But I don't want you to marry me just to make me feel better."

"I want to marry you because I love you and it's what people do when they really love each other." 

They stared at each other, brown eyes meeting blue.

"Right," Sara said, finally. "I love you and I want to marry you. You love me and and you want to marry me. What's stopping us?"

"Well, nothing. Not really. Except for the sherriff."

"Shut up about the sherriff!" Sara yelped, before realising that he was smiling for the first time. 

He gently removed her arms from around his body and knelt on one knee on the floor in front of her. "Sara Louise Sidle, will you marry me?"

"I asked first!"

"And I'm asking properly."

"All right then, yes!" As if on cue, they broke into simaltaneous broad smiles. 

"Wow," said Grissom. "I never thought I'd ever get engaged. This is a whole new experience for me," he said, leaning in for a kiss.

"Well, neither have I," Sara whispered, when they parted. "So... is there anything more about this dream you'd like to talk about?"

"I think you've successfully gotten rid of all my fears." He kissed her again. "So now, we can go to bed. Right?"

Sara grinned. "Right." 

Standing up, Grissom took her hand, pulled her up, and led her into the bedroom, shutting the door behind them. 

All thoughts of the sherriff were forgotten, and Grissom never had that particular nightmare again.

THE END


End file.
